


All Been Blown Out

by FagurFiskur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Dean, M/M, Mafioso Castiel, Possessive Castiel, Stripper Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a stripper, Castiel is a mafioso. Sometimes they fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Been Blown Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avyssoseleison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/gifts).



> Birthday fic for my dear avyssoseleison. It’s based on [one of her old ficlets](http://avyssoseleison.tumblr.com/post/109605547179/dean-is-working-as-a-stripper-but-probably) because no one ever accused me of originality and because she’s got this ~~ridiculous preoccupation~~ fondness for Stripper!Dean/Mafioso!Cas
> 
> Title from Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine

Dean can feel Castiel's eyes on him like a brand, tracking his every movement. He's not ashamed to admit that the attention makes him preen, and he raises his leg just a little bit higher than he probably should, hands tightening their grip around the pole as he lifts himself off the floor. He twirls around, eyes finally meeting Castiel's.

Castiel's expression is cool, but at this point Dean knows what to look for. He can see the cracks in Castiel's calm demeanor in the tilt of his head, and the way his left hand, resting on his knee, slowly clenches around the fabric of his pants the longer he watches Dean dance.

It makes Dean feel  _powerful_ , knowing what kind of man Castiel Krushnic is and the hold Dean has on him, and he enjoys the feeling while it lasts. In one or two songs, Castiel will be ordering him off the stage and into his specially reserved backroom, and once they get there Dean won't be the one in control anymore.

The thought of what's coming sends hot flashes of arousal dancing up and down Dean's spine, cock already chubbing up in his shorts. It has to be noticeable, but Dean can't even bring himself to feel ashamed. Instead, he locks eyes with Castiel again, widening his stance and tilting his hips just so, making his state even abundantly clearer.

Dean doesn't expect any visible reaction from Castiel, and sure as hell not for him to jump to his feet and storm out of the room. The music cuts off a few moments later, and it startles Dean into realizing that he should probably be following Castiel.

He jumps off the stage, ignoring the couple of drunks in the back who start jeering, and rushes towards the backrooms. Castiel is standing outside the regular one and his gaze hardens when he sees Dean.

"Inside," he says gruffly, and Dean's stomach twists in a confusing mix of anxiety and arousal.

But he's not a complete idiot, so he does as told. As soon as he's inside, Castiel is on his heels, slamming the door behind him and then grabbing Dean and backing him into the wall.

His hand is on Dean's cock before Dean can figure out what's going on, squeezing almost painfully tight. Dean's hips twitch and he whimpers. "What-"

"This is  _mine_ ," Castiel says quietly, squeezing again as if in emphasis. "I don't mind you showing off the rest of your body, but only I get to see you like this. Understood?"

And this really shouldn't turn Dean on the way it is but he's almost dizzy with it, mouth dry and cock straining against Castiel's palm. He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

"Good," Castiel says and then his lips are on Dean's, hot and demanding, and there's nothing Dean can do but melt into it.

No matter how often they do it, kissing Castiel will always be a terrifying experience in the best way possible. It always feels like he's trying to devour Dean, to carve him out and climb inside of him, and Dean wants nothing more than to let him.

Castiel's hands grab at the waistband of Dean's shorts, impatiently pulling them down until Dean gets the message and starts helping. Wriggling out of them is kind of awkward when Castiel refuses to let their lips part, but soon enough they hit the floor and Dean kicks them off. Then he's naked, aside from the shoes on his feet, while Castiel hasn't so much as taken off his coat. Dean's hands itch to reach out and remove it, but the thought of Castiel fucking him just like this, fully-dressed, also sends a thrill through him.

Castiel finally breaks their kiss, lips latching onto Dean's neck instead and starting on what will probably be a series of marks. Dean leans into it, hand going up to grab at the back of Castiel's head. Every time Castiel's lips leave his skin he can feel him mutter something, and if he strains his ears, he can just make out words like, "beautiful", and "gorgeous", and "mine".

"Please," Dean whimpers, not even sure what he's asking for but knowing that he's got it when Castiel's hands both grab his ass, pulling the cheeks apart roughly.

The first few times they did this, Castiel would always turn Dean around, sometimes pushing him down so his ass would be up in the air and vulnerable, sometimes pressing his entire body against the wall, trapping Dean.

Lately, he's always kept them face to face. Dean tries not to read too much into it, but he can't shake the feeling that when their eyes meet, when Castiel holds his gaze until they both come, it's the closest he's been to any human being.

Thinking of it this way is dangerous, Dean knows, because men like Castiel Krushnic don't fall in love. Even if they did, Dean is just some stripper-turned-whore, and Castiel's possessiveness is entirely owed to the fact that he doesn't like to share.

Supposedly.

Dean is startled out of his ruminations by Castiel's lubed finger shoving inside of him. It goes gentler than Dean was expecting, pausing when Castiel feels Dean tighten around him. He pulls back, raising his head to look Dean in the eyes, and Dean feels pinned down by the heavy, inscrutable look Castiel gives him, heart beating wildly against his rib cage like a trapped bird.

Then Castiel ducks his head again, sucking another mark into Dean's shoulder, and the moment, whatever it was, is over. Another two fingers enter Dean. They seek out Dean's prostate with quick, practiced movements, causing Dean to let out a moan, and he feels Castiel grin into his skin.

"There's my good boy," he mutters.

His free hand lands on Dean's waist, fingertips digging into the bit of excess fat Dean's got there, then moves down, past Dean's flank and hips, to grab his thigh and hoist his leg up. Dean wraps it around Castiel's waist, simultaneously opening himself up more and bringing them closer. Their cocks press together through the fabric of Castiel's pants and underwear, and now every small hitch of Dean's hips sends bolts of heat down to his gut, blending with the sensation of Castiel's fingers fucking mercilessly against his prostate.

Dean whines something that might have been Castiel's name, already pitifully close to the edge, and Castiel kisses him again. It's softer this time, completely out of sync with the now ruthless way his fingers are pumping in and out of Dean. It makes Dean feel like he's about to go out of his skin, heart aching with it but cock still straining, demanding his attention. It's overwhelming, but then with Castiel, it always is.

"Fuck me," Dean pleads against Castiel's lips. "Come on, get your dick in me already."

It's a sign of how far Castiel is gone that he doesn't in some way reprimand Dean for acting like the one in charge. Instead his hand goes for his zipper, yanking it down and freeing his cock. He pulls his fingers out of Dean and spreads his cheeks again, pressing the head of his cock against Dean's hole.

For a few moments he holds it there. Dean tries to push down, but Castiel's hands hold him still. "Patience, boy."

Dean groans, hole clenching around nothing, and finally Castiel takes mercy on him and starts pushing in. He's not wearing a condom, hasn't worn one since he made Dean go get tested. It's yet another way for him to mark Dean as his, not that Dean can say he really minds.

That first slide of Castiel's cock into him never fails to drive Dean out of his mind. Castiel goes slow, even though Dean can feel him shivering against him with the effort of it, filling Dean so perfectly, slotting into him like he's meant to be there. When at long last he's seated balls-deep in Dean he stays still for another eternity, nuzzling against the crook of Dean's neck. It makes something clench deep within Dean's chest, something he'd rather not to look into any closer.

Thankfully, Castiel starts to move then, with deep, smooth thrusts. Dean's cock rubs against the fabric of Castiel's shirt with every movement and he uses his leg still wrapped around Castiel's waist to pull him in even deeper, greedily grabbing for more, harder,  _closer_.

Castiel's hand tightens its grip around Dean's thigh and it's the only warning he gets before Castiel is pounding into him with everything he's got. Dean comes with a garbled shout, the dual sensations against his cock and prostate too overwhelming to resist,  but Castiel doesn't even seem to notice, too intent on fucking him into the wall.

"So beautiful," he says, voice slurring, and Dean's not even sure Castiel realizes he's speaking out loud. "So good for me, so tight, my gorgeous boy."

Dean's starting too feel too sensitive now, pleasure turning into pain, but he can't do anything but pull Castiel closer, still so greedy for it. Castiel tilts his head up again, and Dean knows he has to be close, eyes looking feverish but still so intently focused on Dean's.

"Come on," Dean urges, and with a choked-off moan Castiel does.

He keeps thrusting into Dean until his cock goes soft, and even then he doesn't quite go still, hips swaying just slightly and the hand not on Dean's thigh stroking through the sweaty hair above his forehead.

He doesn't look away from Dean, either, and it seems like a whole conversation passes between them, tension building into something indescribable, until Dean finally can't take it anymore and shuts his eyes.

Castiel's lips brush over his eyelid, whisper soft. He's trembling, they both are, and Dean tries to tell himself it's just the physical exhaustion. That all they are right now are two people who made each other come. He doesn't believe it even for a second, but he clings to the deception anyway, because anything more would be too much.

They stay like this far too long, until Dean's leg starts to ache and he needs to put it down. Castiel's cock finally slips out of him and he tucks it back into his pants. He reaches for a nearby box of tissues and cleans Dean with quick, perfunctory movements.

“So,” Dean says, because the silence is starting to unnerve him.

Instead of answering, Castiel bends down and retrieves Dean’s shorts. He nudges Dean’s leg and Dean raises his feet one by one, helping Castiel help him get dressed. He pretends not to notice the way Castiel’s hands touch his legs far more than is necessary on the way up, or the way they linger on Dean’s hips, their grip firm but gentle.

“You should be getting back out there,” Castiel says once he eventually lets go. His voice is soft in the way it only gets at moments like these.

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

But getting back out there is the last thing he wants to do right now, so he wraps his arms around Castiel’s shoulders instead, and Castiel doesn’t resist or reprimand him when he pulls him in for another kiss. Whatever they have can’t exist outside of this room, except in the occasional extravagant gift Castiel leaves Dean without acknowledging them, so they let the moments drag as long as they can afford to.


End file.
